Pranks? Thanks!
by ssadropout
Summary: ROYAI DAY! There is a usually hidden aspect to Riza Hawkeye, and it might be what Roy Mustang loves most. This fic spans the period from pre- to post-manga. I would normally make this another chapter of A Mustang Miscellany, but since it's Royai Day, I made it a new story.


It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was monumental (at least to him). One of the most tantalizing things about it was that no one would believe him if he told them about it. (His people knew that he wore a false persona, but everyone thought that the Hawkeye they knew was the real Hawkeye.)

He remembers the first time as if it had just been yesterday, though it was more than 15 years ago. He had just moved into Master Hawkeye's house. He'd been so obsessed with alchemy, that he could not have imagined that anything could distract him. But, there was Sensei's solemn daughter, just a couple of years younger than he was. Maybe it was because she seemed bent on ignoring him except for household business like meals and laundry. He'd always been a pest, but he enjoyed annoying her even more than he did his aunt. He just wanted her attention, and he didn't seem to care that it was negative.

How she knew that he, city boy that he was, was afraid of even the smallest garden snake that wriggled in the field behind the house, he never knew. Another thing he never knew was how the hell she had come into possession of one of those canned snake gags. He'd gotten halfway through his pile of freshly laundered and precisely folded clothes that he was putting away, when the false serpent (somehow compressed in the pile without the can) struck. The sound the gag had made was horrendous. Never mind that it really did not resemble a snake in the least and that he knew that garden snakes did not rattle. It might have been better to have been bitten by a real snake, so embarrassed was he. He had screamed like a girl (not that he'd ever describe it that way to her) and (hopefully she hadn't known this part) had nearly wet his pants. A few seconds later, he heard her bedroom door close. And, just in case he hadn't had the brains to figure it out, there was this:

"What's for dinner tonight?" he asked.

"Just a little something I caught in the field." Face as grave as ever.

It turned out to be rabbit, but his skin had crawled throughout the meal. However, it had been a breakthrough, and, after that, they talked every day.

She tormented him with surprisingly creative tricks at semi-regular intervals, and under Master Hawkeye's strict watch, he could never prank her back. He took to exaggerating his responses to her surprises, because the sillier he behaved, the more she smiled.

Neither Riza nor Maes nor he had the stomach to goof around in Ishval.

When he was promoted and stationed at Eastern Headquarters, none of the high officers seemed to take his new rank seriously. He lamented his baby face and limited ability to grow facial hair, though he knew there were many reasons for their scorn. He must have dozed off that day, and when he awoke, it was after 5:00. Hawkeye was the only one left in the office with him. He dismissed her, and on his way home, he stopped at a Xingese restaurant for takeout. Once home, he went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, and he noticed the cat's whiskers. Once the wave of humiliation had passed, he began to laugh hysterically. He managed to dial her, but he could not speak when she answered. When he heard her laugh, he felt light. Happy. Optimistic.

And, just like when he had been her father's apprentice, she had impeccable timing. She didn't draw the goofy mustache on him until he was least expecting it.

He began to keep a log of her pranks, and he actually once tried to convince Havoc and Breda that the Lieutenant was responsible for some of his most mortifying episodes. They merely rolled their eyes, so he shrugged and surrendered to the reputation that was Riza Hawkeye.

Just like when he'd been a teen, he craved her attention. He procrastinated or said outrageous things just to earn her reprimands. Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes made him weak in the knees and only partially from fear.

When his team got broken up, it was one of the worst periods of his life. He hardly ever got to see her, and when he did, they needed to be careful and distant. Maybe, what he missed most of all, was having to check in the mirror before leaving his inner sanctum. There was a new normal where he did his work (and plotted), ate take out alone (and planned), and dropped off and picked up his laundry (and schemed). He was halfway through "filing" his starched white shirts in the drawer when the "snake" smacked him on the nose. His tears weren't (so much) from fear. _Riza_. _Still Riza._ Knowing that their lines were tapped, he dialed.

"Hawkeye here." Business-like.

"Hissssss," he replied and hung up.

The day of reckoning came and went. He was not Fuhrer, but their new leader was human, a friend, and (semi?) sane. There were plenty of changes for the better, and his mostly reunited team went to Ishval. For once he felt brave. He was willing to face the consequences of his past actions to do what he knew was right despite the difficulty. Enough of the survivors of his sins were willing to let him live. He and his people settled in the desert. It was a bit more inviting when they were building instead of destroying. But, still, there were those little sand snakes. The soldiers were all careful to shake out their bedding before going to sleep each night.

It had been an exhausting day. A meeting with some of his less enthusiastic supporters had been contentious. Afterwards, the jeep had broken down, and they had walked nearly five miles back to base. He ate a small meal with his team and managed to stay awake long enough to sign some important authorizations. A surprising number of fruit trees were supposed to be suitable for desert climes, and he did not want to waste any time in acquiring as many as possible. Too wiped out to be aware of what he was doing, he plopped down on the bed, and bounced up like a ball when he heard the rattle and felt something move under the covers. The sweat running down his face was the cold sweat of fear instead of the hot sweat of the desert. A rustle behind him startled him yet again.

"Is everything okay, Sir? Do you need protection?"

"Riza!" he gasped.

"I've brought protection, Sir," she said, holding up her gun. Then, she shed her overcoat, revealing her nude form. "And I've brought more protection," she whispered, holding up the small package in her other hand. She carefully placed the gun on the stand by the bed.

"I'm glad that you aren't afraid of snakes," he replied. (That earned him a smack on his behind and a very nice kiss and …)


End file.
